


i looked over it and i ached

by bakedcheese



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Songfic, Unresolved Romantic Tension, nothing happens and that's okay, they get their picnic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakedcheese/pseuds/bakedcheese
Summary: Although he would never admit it himself, Crowley enjoyed a picnic.Perhaps it was a residual trait from his previous snake-form, but lying in the sun always made him feel warm and comforted. It was a good feeling.Therefore, when Aziraphale suggested they go out on a picnic, he agreed to go. It was absolutely not because of any other reason whatsoever. (It had nothing to do with the apocalyptic feeling in his stomach that everything would go wonky if he refused the opportunity. And it had no relation to the soft image he had in his mind of the angel, basking in the warm sun, aglow with earthly light.)-Aziraphale and Crowley get their picnic.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	i looked over it and i ached

Although he would never admit it himself, Crowley enjoyed a picnic. 

Perhaps it was a residual trait from his previous snake-form, but lying in the sun always made him feel warm and comforted. It was a good feeling.

Therefore, when Aziraphale suggested they go out on a picnic, he agreed to go. It was absolutely not because of any other reason whatsoever. (It had nothing to do with the apocalyptic feeling in his stomach that everything would go wonky if he refused the opportunity. And it had no relation to the soft image he had in his mind of the angel, basking in the warm sun, aglow with earthly light.)

“Crowley? Crowley, are you alright there?,” questioned Aziraphale.

“Of course, of course,” the demon shrugged, “No issue at all.” He turned away from the angel, who had been finishing his dessert, hiding his rapidly reddening face and feigning a cough.

“I’ve been wanting to go away for a weekend. After the… 'apocaly-not’. That was what you called it, correct?”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” He turned back to the round man. “I’ll pick you up at nine on Saturday?”

Aziraphale gave a smile in return, “That sounds lovely. What if we went over to Tadfield? We could spend the afternoon in the fields just outside of the village, and perhaps we could even go over to say hello to Ananthama and Adam and the Them? Oh goodness, I heard that boy Newton has moved in with Ananthama as well! Perhaps we could even meet them for dinner…” And so he continued. 

Crowley looked at him. The redness was unfading, and he was absolutely not watching in reverence as his angel gesticulated through the rest of the evening.

-

The next time the demon and the angel saw each other, it was a sunny Saturday morning— The exact morning the two had decided on to go on their picnic. Several nights before, Aziraphale had phoned Ananthma, pleasantly asking if she would be free for dinner or at least tea while they were passing through the village. (After the whole air base scare, Aziraphale had exchanged contact information with the young lady. Adam had also taken initiative to introduce himself properly to the two strange men.) Crowley drove from his flat, taking effort to make it politely and fashionable _early_ to the front of Aziraphale’s bookshop, where he then effortlessly slid his car into the miraculously free parking spot. He didn’t have to wait for long, for Aziraphale had too made an effort to be prepared. 

While Crowley wore his usual slim, dark suit jacket and bolo-tie combo, the angel had opted for something slightly more event-appropriate. He wore a light cream button-up under a tartan vest, and sitting atop his head was a darling little sunhat. In his hands, he carried a wicker picnic basket, which looked exactly what one might assume a picnic basket should look like; Draped over his shoulders was a red and white gingham picnic blanket. 

“Ready to go?,” he asked, flashing another heavenly smile as he opened the passenger door of the Bentley.

Aziraphale adjusted himself into the car’s seat, but he knew it wouldn’t be at (relative) ease until they left the hustle of London and Crowley stopped nearly killing every fifth pedestrian they passed. Exiting the city, the roads grew smaller and rougher; The paved roads gave way to yellow dirt paths. The outline of the city and the honks of fellow cars gave way to tall, green grass. Like a dream, they drove through the hills and through the trees, all while the early summer breeze flowed through the lowered windows. Aziraphale spoke enthusiastically about whatever caught his attention or passed through his mind: the beautiful greenery, the fantastic weather, how excited he was about the picnic, whether they should miracle another bottle of wine for Ananthama later, if Crowley was tired driving or not.

“Angel, you have to know that we _don’t_ get tired.”

“But we do get bored.”

“If I was bored of driving, do you think I would get into such a fuss about this car?”

“That’s fair…,” he admitted, “I just wanted to check on you. It feels unfair that I get to take in all these sights while you have to focus on the road.”

“Again, angel, if I didn’t focus on the road, we would still be fine,” Crowley chucked behind his sunglasses. “...I do enjoy driving. Focusing on just...just what’s ahead. It’s nice.”

“Ah, yes.”

“Nothing else, just the road and the sounds and the smells. Also driving out here _absolutely_ beats driving in town. For sure.”

“Well, that sounds lovely.”

It became quiet after that, but Crowley couldn’t help but enjoy the soft sound of Aziraphale’s sigh next to him and a stolen glance of his angel’s enraptured focus of the scenery just outside the car.

-

They continued driving for a bit longer, until they reached a small clear spot to the side of the road, worn with time and repeated drives over the dirt patch. Crowley parked perfectly into the slot, and the two men made their way up the short, grassy hill. All around them was soft grass, taller at parts from the recent late-spring rains. Wildflowers had sprouted, dotting the ground with hints of pale blues and purples and yellows. The faint sound of bee buzzes was never far, but otherwise it was quiet. There were some chirps, here and there.

Crowley found a spot just over the hill, closer to some trees. The foliage created a small ring around them, but the sun still shone over their spot.

“This is beautiful! I’ll get to setting lunch.” Aziraphale got to work laying out the picnic blanket, the perfect size for the both of them to sit comfortably together. He unloaded a baguette, which Crowley recognized from that bakery the angel loved, right down the street from the bookshop. He then took out some cheese, some prepared fruit, a small container of thinly sliced meats. “It’s simple, but it should keep us filled up!” 

The two of them removed their shoes, laying on the blanket. They opened and split a bottle of wine, a light white wine Aziraphale promised would be _divine_ with their lunch.

It was very nice.

Soft exchanges. A light nap. Staring into the blue, blue sky, not a cloud in the sky. 

Crowley did not take himself to be a particularly sentimental person, but as he laid on the blanket, taking in the warmth of the mid-morning sun, he found himself drawn to a particular feeling. At first, he thought it may have been the wine, but then he remembered he was a demon, and those humanly worries about gas or heartburn did not typically apply. The angel was sat next to him, comfortably propped up by his arms, legs stretched out. His argyle socks were removed, and he dipped his feet into the greenery past the blanket, taking in the feeling of warm soil and life. His vest was removed, carefully folded to his side. Both his sleeves were rolled to the elbows, revealing the soft hairs on his forearms. _“So beautiful…”_ Crowley felt his thoughts wander for a moment, away from his attention of the wistful, one-sided conversation Aziraphale was involved in. It had something to do with a book he had recently acquired and a scandalously good deal he received for it. 

There was a deep ache in his chest. It resonated, _harmonized_ with the light laughter of the angel next to him. It would be simple, to reach over, and take his hand in his own. It should be simple to say what he wanted to say. But, taking another sip of the wine, in another sense, it didn’t really matter, did it? The angel was still there with him, and they were still happy. Oh, angel was so happy. _Life_ made him so happy, and for Crowley, that would be enough. _“A drive here, a dinner there, a miracle or two. That would be enough.”_

The bumblebees buzzed again. The birds sang their song above them. The soft winds passed through their hairs. It was peaceful, perfect, even.

-

And there they stayed, until all the wine was drunk and all the food was eaten and the sun was starting to get a bit too hot and bright to be laying out in. The beating of the high, afternoon sun made Crowley want to sink into the shade, so the two of them decided to make their way into Tadfield proper to visit Ananthama, Newton, and the Them for tea. Aziraphale informed Crowley he had also picked up a tin of fresh biscuits from the bakery that morning as well. He hoped it would be a good selection that the kids would enjoy. Crowley mentioned if they didn’t care for the selection, and if Aziraphle cared that much, he could just miracle some new ones. The angel argued the flavor just wasn’t the same.

They piled back into the car. Their blanket was stained a light shade of green, and their basket a bit lighter than when they had started, but the two men were wholly satisfied with their morning. Crowley began driving.

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale as they sped down and up the hills surrounding picturesque Tadfield. The angel was speaking about some holy text he had recently deciphered, and found it was truly marvelous to see people adore Her so fondly. Aziraphale liked talking about Her, the Almighty. Crowley had some thoughts himself, but when it came to it, She was ineffable...which was prevalent in many of her wishes, plans, and decisions. But Aziraphale did not mind. He loved Her in a way that Crowley did not understand; It was a blind, but very real adoration. It was unconditional.

“ _I guess that’s how you can separate an angel and a demon.”_

Some days that revelation hurt him more than he wanted to admit. As much as he spoke about “our side” or humanity, how much could he run away from _who_ he was, and who he would _always be._ Could he love anything as much as Aziraphale loved Her? Could Aziraphael love _anyone_ as much as Her? “ _Could it be me?”_

There was another deep ache. It was a longing, an ache that reached deep into him. 

So, he focused, following the white lines of the road as the dirt transitioned back into the pavement. 

Aziraphale reached out the window, the wind tickling through his fingers. It blew into his hair, light blond curls. They bounced slightly, never out of place. Crowley looked at him. _Ache. Ache. Ache. “He’ll never…”_

“So, Crowley…”

_“Ah, he called my name.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Songfic based on Mitski's "Strawberry Blond". Originally wrote this back in 2019 but never got around to posting it lmao
> 
> Hope you enjoyed a bit of soft yearning ;'-)


End file.
